


The Labyrinth of London: The Lords of London

by FarGreenCountrySwiftSunrise



Series: The Labyrinth of London [20]
Category: Labyrinth (1986), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Brotherhood, Brothers, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, London, Resolved Sexual Tension, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Triggers, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, trigger warning, tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-06 05:04:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FarGreenCountrySwiftSunrise/pseuds/FarGreenCountrySwiftSunrise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, Mycroft Holmes wished away his baby brother to the Goblin King. Once upon another time, Mycroft saved the Goblin King. TW: Suicide attempt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter I: Labyrinth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Almighty Disclaimer  
> Oh Moffat and Gatiss,  
> Henson and Doyle,  
> To you belongs all the characters  
> And none so for me!
> 
> A/N: This story was inspired by "The Thin White Sleuth..." by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame.

“Mummy, do I have to watch him?” Mycroft asked with a sigh.

“You need to take on more responsibility with your brother, Mycroft. You say you want to be in government. If you can’t take care of one intelligent seven year old than how can you take care of a nation?” Mrs. Holmes said.

“Yes, Mummy,” the fourteen year old said.

&%&%&%

Mycroft was reading through _Crime and Punishment_ for school. He had decided that the crime was the book being written and the punishment was having to read it. Actually, it was the second worst punishment Mycroft was going through.

“Mycroft, do you want to play pirates?” Sherlock asked.

“For the sixth time, Sherlock, I said no,” Mycroft said. He shifted in the reading chair so that the light streaming from the windows in the sun room would not be hitting his eyes directly.

“Mummy said you had to play with me,” Sherlock said.

“No, she said I had to watch you. There is a difference,” Mycroft said.

“But if I get bored…” Sherlock said, purposefully trailing off to let a variety of horrors cross his elder brother’s mind.

“I can’t have you setting the pond on fire again,” Mycroft said. He rubbed his face. “Would you like to play a game of chess?”

Sherlock eagerly brought over the chess set, his pirate hat askew on his head. “Yes! I love playing chess!”

Mycroft huffed and continued reading his book as he played against Sherlock. The game went on for half an hour before Sherlock said, “Check!”

Mycroft looked up from Dostoevsky. “What?”

Sherlock motioned to the board and grinned. “Check.”

The elder Holmes looked at the board and thought over the moves. He realized his mistake and how careless he had been. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Can’t stand me winning, cake face?”

Mycroft grimaced and focused on the game. In five moves, Sherlock was triumphant.

“I WON! I WON!” Sherlock shouted as he danced around the room.

“Oh, shut up, freak,” Mycroft said.

Sherlock stopped dancing. “Take that back. I’m not a freak. Mummy says you’re not supposed to call me that.”

“I can call you whatever you want. Mummy isn’t here. If you tell Mummy, I’ll tell her why that frog was dissected,” Mycroft growled.

“It was dead already! I wanted to know how it died!” Sherlock said.

“I wish I could get rid of you!”

“You can’t! The only way you could do that is if you killed me, and everyone would know you did it,” Sherlock said.

“Oh, really? Do you ever consider that I am a wizard?” Mycroft said as a convenient strike of lighting followed. Odd. Don’t remember a storm being in the forecast. 

Sherlock laughed. “Wizards aren’t real. I’m too old for those games.”

Mycroft began playing off Sherlock’s fears, walking slowly to his brother. “I have the ability to cast you to a place where it is dark, damp, and small. It’s an oubliette. It’s where you put people when you want to forget about them. I’ll send you to one that will cause even Mummy to forget about you.”

Sherlock began walking away from Mycroft. “Where… where is an oubliette?”

Mycroft wracked his brain trying to remember where he had read the term. A story. Some story about… “The Labyrinth. Do you know what is at the center of the Labyrinth?”

“A minotaur?” Sherlock asked quietly.

“No. Much worse. _The Goblin King_.” Another strike of lightning. “He takes freakish children that are wished away by wizards like me. He turns them into goblins. Stupid little goblins that do nothing but bad things.”

Sherlock shook his head. “You wouldn’t. I don’t want to be bad. I’m not… I’m not a freak. I’m not a freak! Mummy…”

“Mummy isn’t here.” Mycroft said.

Sherlock hit the wall and stopped. The sensible part of him was trying to tell him that Mycroft was making the story up. Yet a small part of him believed. “Please don’t, Mycroft. I’m sorry. Please don’t wish me away.”

Mycroft shook his head. “Too late. I wish the goblins would come and take you away right now!”

The elder Holmes brother instantly regretted his words. Sherlock had a look of betrayal and horror. The worst part of it was the desperate longing in his eyes for things to go back to the way they were, begging to know what he did wrong to deserve such a punishment.

Mycroft was about to apologize when a great wind swept through the room, causing all the windows and doors to open. He turned his head to look at the suddenly open room. He knew that the windows and doors were all locked. They should not have swung open. 

“Sherlock, we need to go further in the house. Something is…” Mycroft turned and saw that Sherlock was gone. “Wrong. SHERLOCK!”

There was what Mycroft could only describe as demonic laughter. He tried to identify where the noise was coming from, but only saw vague shapes. Mycroft grabbed an umbrella that had been knocked to the ground as it was the closest thing to a weapon in the room.

“SHERLOCK!”

Another gust of wind went through the room. Something like dust was caught in Mycroft’s eyes. 

When he was finally able to open his eyes, Mycroft saw a man in black armor and wild blonde hair standing menacingly in the room. The man’s blue eyes were mismatched as one eye was too dilated, adding a sense of otherworldliness that would be clear even without the strangeness of his clothing. Glitter swirled around him. 

“Who are you?” Mycroft said, pointing his umbrella at the man.

The man in armor titled his head to the side. 

“No! But that can’t be! You’re just a story!” Mycroft said.

“We are all stories in the end, Mycroft,” the man said, “When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” 

Mycroft said softly, “You’re the Goblin King.”

The Goblin King grinned and showed his pointed teeth. “That I am, Mycroft.”

“You took my brother away,” Mycroft said.

“You wished him away to me, as all powerful wizards do,” Jareth said, mimicking Mycroft’s accent on the last few words.

“Give me back my brother!” Mycroft said, “I didn’t really want him to be turned into a goblin!”

The Goblin King crossed his arms. “What’s said is said.”

“Please, I have to get him back!” Mycroft said.

Jareth held out his hand and made a crystal appear in his hand. “I’ve brought you, a gift.”

Mycroft took a step back. “Whatever it is, I don’t want it.”

“Are you sure? It may look like a crystal…” Jareth began rolling the crystal between his hands. “… but if you turn it this way and look into it, it will show you your dreams. This is not a gift for an ordinary boy who takes care of a _freak_. Do you want it? Then forget your brother.”

“You could be handing me secrets of the universe and I still wouldn’t trust you. ‘Beware of Greeks bearing gifts’.”

Jareth shrugged and made the crystal disappear.

“There has to be some way to get my brother back,” Mycroft said, “Where is he? I’ll fight legions to bring him back. He did nothing to deserve to be turned into a goblin.”

Jareth made a grand sweep towards the door that he had entered. “He’s there, inside my castle.”

Mycroft stepped forward, umbrella still gripped tightly in his hands. “Is that the Labyrinth? With the Castle Beyond the Goblin City?” Mycroft turned around and found that is home was gone.

“Indeed it is,” Jareth said.

“What do I have to do?” Mycroft asked.

With another wave of his hand, a clock with thirteen Roman numerals appeared. “You have thirteen hours in which to solve the Labyrinth before your baby brother becomes one of us, forever.” The Goblin King disappeared entirely with the clock, but a few words echoed. “Such a pity.”

Mycroft looked over the Labyrinth. “It’s just a puzzle. A really, really big puzzle.”

&%&%&%

Sherlock found himself in the middle of chaos. Strange creatures were running about or staring at him. Some spoke in whispers and others were shouting.

The room looked like a medieval throne room. Sherlock tried to move towards an exit, but a blonde man entered the room to block the doorway.

“Quiet! All of you!” the man said.

The goblins hushed and bowed. The man turned to Sherlock. “I am Jareth, King of the Goblins. In twelve hours and fifty-three minutes, you will be turned into a goblin unless your brother reaches the center of the Labyrinth. Do you understand?”

Sherlock looked around and saw another exit with stairs. He ran towards it but as soon as he had one foot on the staircase, Jareth was there.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Jareth said.

Sherlock took a few steps back. He stood in a boxing position “I’ll make it very hard for you to hurt me.”

“I have no desire to harm you,” Jareth said.

Sherlock kept his hands up. The young boy kept his fear in check as much as a seven year old could.

Jareth walked into the throne room and knelt in front of Sherlock, hands up in a gesture of peace. “If you do not already know this, you will not believe me, but I will tell you anyway. I am one of the Good Neighbors and a close relative of the Fae. Because of that second part, I cannot lie. I shall not harm you while you are my ward, Sherlock.”

“You will turn me into a goblin,” Sherlock said softly.

“There are worse things. I mean, look at me. I’m a goblin. I think I could do worse than that,” Jareth said, “Now why don’t we…” 

Jareth stopped, tilted his head, and then stood up. With a thought, a crystal appeared in Jareth’s hand. “How in the worlds is he doing that?”

The Goblin King made the crystal pop. With a few quick steps, Jareth dropped out of the window and turned into his owl form.

&%&%&%

Mycroft was walking along the top of the stone maze. He had the umbrella he accidentally took from the house opened; he used it to help his balance.

“If Mary Poppins can do it, so can I,” Mycroft muttered to himself.

An owl swooped by Mycroft with no noise, causing the older Holmes boy to tumble off the wall. When the owl came by again, Mycroft smacked the owl in the wing with the now closed umbrella.

The barn owl changed into the Goblin King. Jareth held up the torn edge of his white feathered cloak. “I quite liked this. It will be an annoying job for the tailor.”

Mycroft kept the umbrella in front of him. “Why are you interfering with me? You did not give me any rules.”

“I am aware. However, something you were doing perplexed me and I wished to see how you did it. You didn’t happen to run into any pixies, did you?” Jareth said.

“What?” Mycroft said.

“You were floating,” Jareth said.

Mycroft’s eyes lit up like a child when he sees his birthday presents. “Really?”

“Of course. I would not lie to you. I just wished to know what you ran into,” Jareth said.

“There were some fairies at the gate and a dwarf,” Mycroft said.

Jareth nodded. “There might have been a pixie infestation. I will have Hogsbreath get on that,” Jareth said, “It’s not really fair to have some Runners fly and others not to, is it?”

“Life isn’t fair, but that’s the way it is,” Mycroft said with a smile.

Jareth nodded in agreement. “Have fun in the oubliette.” 

The ground opened up beneath Mycroft and he fell several feet. The ground did not swallow him, but remained opened. The Goblin King waved to Mycroft before flying off.

“How am I going to get out of here?” Mycroft said to himself. He smacked himself with his umbrella. “Of course. I can fly now!”

Mycroft had to rummage through the boxes of his childhood memories to remember what went with pixie dust. He kept his eyes closed 

_Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts… New books. Old books. Games. Puzzles. Cake. Mummy bringing home Sherlock. Sherlock saying ‘my’ for Mycroft as his first word._

When Mycroft opened his eyes, he was floating at the level of the path. He almost fell back into the oubliette, but he used his umbrella handle to catch into a hole in the stones. Struggling for a few moments, Mycroft pulled himself up onto the ground. 

After taking a breath, Mycroft stood up and tried to fly again, but nothing happened. Mycroft began to run.

“All right. I never want to legwork ever again.”

&%&%&%

Sherlock stood back and smiled at his work. The Castle Beyond the Goblin City was on fire and it was because he had convinced the residents that it would make the king toasty warm.

Just as Sherlock was going to start running away, a shadow came into view. “WHAT IN THE NINE CIRCLES OF HELL IS THIS?”

Sherlock gulped at the sight of the infuriated Goblin King. His cloak was singed and the bright fire gave Jareth a demonic glow.

With a few short orders, the goblins began to in some semblance of order began to put out the fire. Jareth threw several crystals in the air, causing it to downpour over just the castle. Jareth turned towards Sherlock. “I will deal with you later. I have to make sure none of my people are dead.”

Sherlock blinked. He had not thought about people being killed. The boy sat down and felt ill.

&%&%&%

Less than a half-hour later, Jareth knelt down in front of the boy. Sherlock winced. 

“No one is dead though many are singed,” Jareth said.

“Are you going to kill me?” Sherlock asked.

“I said I would not harm you. Even if I wanted to, the Labyrinth would protect you,” Jareth said.

Sherlock looked up at Jareth. “But you don’t want to?”

Jareth shook his head. “No. I don’t want to harm you. I just want to know why you set my home ablaze.”

Sherlock shrugged.

“Do not lie to me. I play cards with the god of lies so I can tell that you did have a reason,” Jareth said.

“I wanted to escape,” Sherlock said.

“All right. Why this large of a fire though?” Jareth said.

Sherlock shook his head and looked down. “Do I have to tell you?”

“Yes, you do,” Jareth said.

“I… um… don’t call me… call me a freak,” Sherlock said.

“Have you seen me? I can hardly call you such,” Jareth said.

Sherlock gulped. “I like fires. I like things burning. I feel good when I burn things. I figured that I could escape and feel good at the same time.”

Jareth nodded. “That is it I needed to know. Thank you, Sherlock.”

Jareth pulled Sherlock to his feet. “You are not a freak, Sherlock. You are different, but that doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing.”

“Mummy tells me that. She tells Mycroft that sometimes too,” Sherlock said.

Jareth ruffled Sherlock’s curls. “I like the sound of your Mum. What do you like to do with her and Mycroft?”

“PIRATES!”

&%&%&%

A few hours later, Mycroft casually walked into the throne room. Sherlock was sitting in a child sized version of the Goblin King throne, casually ordering the goblins around while wearing a pirate hat.

“Ah, Mycroft. Took you long enough,” Sherlock said. He waved a wooden sword at his brother.

“I had slight trouble with the Fire Gang,” Mycroft said.

The Goblin King did not move from his casual sprawl on the throne. “Yes, I find them to be… creative in their distractions. Congratulations, Mycroft Holmes. You have set a new record at exactly four hours. The previous record holder was five hours and forty-two minutes. Oh, and you get your brother back. He has been quite the handful. He set my castle on fire.”

Sherlock stood up from his chair. “A prisoner of war is allowed to escape from an enemy camp.”

“I send a pair of shoes to your queen every year. You are hardly a prisoner of war. Merely a prisoner.”

Mycroft pulled Sherlock to his side and patted his brother on the back. “Are you hurt?”

“Nope! We played pirates and chess!” Sherlock said.

Mycroft looked over to Jareth and tried to imagine the Goblin King dressed as a pirate.

“I shall send you home now,” Jareth said, “Before you leave, Sherlock, I must tell you something. When you are of age and you call upon me, you will be granted one wish.”

“What’s the catch?” Sherlock said.

“Smart boy,” Jareth said with a smile, “There are a few rules with this. One: No wishing for more wishes. Two: No bringing back the dead. Three: No creating of the dead. Four: You cannot make anyone fall in love with anyone else. Five: You cannot wish for someone to be the Goblin King. Do you understand?”

Sherlock nodded.

“May your shoes never pinch,” Jareth said. He winked at Sherlock before the Holmes brothers were whisked back home.

The two boys stood in the sun room. Save for the setting sun, it was as if the Goblin King had never appeared in the Holmes mansion. Mrs. Holmes walked into the room.

“Good evening, boys. What did you get up to while I was gone?” Mrs. Holmes asked.

“We played goblins,” Sherlock said, “Mycroft defeated them to save me.”

Mycroft rested the umbrella against his shoulder. “Well, Sherlock set their castle on fire.”

“How nice,” Mrs. Holmes said as she smiled at how well the boys had played together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have a feeling a lot of the Holmes’ family dynamics is going to be proved wrong in Series Three, but this is my best shot at the moment.
> 
> SarianaJ’s OC beat Mycroft’s time in the Labyrinth. Somehow, she predicted what Mycroft’s time was several months before I said it in “Up or Down?”.
> 
> Take a wild guess at my feelings of _Crime and Punishment_. (Actually, it has a fantastic ending, it’s the rest of the book I can’t get into. I have no idea why. Dostoevsky and I believe in a lot of the same things morally.)


	2. Chapter II: Labs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Almighty Disclaimer  
> Oh Moffat, Gatiss, and Thompson  
> Oh Henson and Doyle,  
> And Pika-la Cynique the generous,  
> To you belongs all the characters  
> And none so for me!
> 
> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> TW: Suicide attempt.
> 
> Disclaimer: I am not a psychologist. If you or someone you love is having suicidal thoughts, please contact help.

It did not matter what the place was called. There were dozens like it in just Great Britain alone. If the citizens of the Queen really knew what was being studied in those laboratories…

Well, that was what Mycroft was for. He made sure the commonwealth never knew.

“And that’s the end of our tour,” the young corporal said as he tried to direct Mycroft back towards the elevator.

“No, it isn’t,” Mycroft said.

“Of course it is. This is the last level,” the corporal said.

“Take me to the basement,” Mycroft said. 

“That’s just the bins, sir,” the corporal said.

Mycroft tapped his umbrella against the floor twice before speaking. “Corporal, if you lie to me one more time, you will never be able to do so again. I was sent here for a full examination. This is not Baskerville. My orders are to be taken as the Word of God. Am I understood?”

The soldier gulped. “Yes, sir.”

&%&%&%

“As you can see, sir, we have a very small magic division. I thought you wouldn’t want to see something so insignificant,” the corporal said.

Mycroft inwardly agreed with the corporal. Some gremlins, fairies, brownies, etc. Nothing of real interest.

“The only larger creature we have is a goblin. Don’t know why it’s classified as goblin though. Looks to be more of a Fae,” the soldier said as he opened the slit of a door to show Mr. Holmes the resident goblin.

Mycroft peered into the brightly lit room. There was a low bed with what looked like a blonde man huddled in the corner.

“Are you sure it is a goblin?” Mycroft asked.

“Course, sir. You can talk to one of the researchers if you like.”

&%&%&%

“The goblin? Just waiting for it to die. We have done all the research we can on it. Nothing left of it besides a beating heart, really,” said the scientist, “Here’s the file anyway.”

Mycroft looked at the name, raised an eyebrow, but continued on his read. _Removed from power because of a runner. Gave a piece of Fae fruit. Sarah Williams. Apparently he was romantically attached to her but it was not returned. Brother to the High Queen of the Seelie Court. Etc. Etc. **Do not directly kill but do not try to let him live.**_

“He’s been in here for two years?” Mycroft asked.

“Yes,” the scientist said, “He should have died a few months in, or at least stopped talking. We eventually got to telepathic testing which we really haven’t been able to do that often. He stopped talking about a month ago.”

“May I see him?” Mycroft asked.

“Sure. The iron cuffs keep him docile, even when he was fully cognate”

Mycroft was brought into Jareth’s cell. Holmes knelt down in front of archenemy.

“Hello, Goblin King. Well, you’re not the Goblin King anymore, are you? I never imagined that someone who had such power over me as a child could be brought down like this. Why are you still hanging on? You should have died months ago. Why are you still here?”

Jareth showed no response.

“You don’t even recognize me, do you? Such a pity. You had such a great mind. Better than Sherlock’s, though I think given time we both could rival you. Good-bye,” Mycroft stood up and began walking towards the door.

“Pixie dust and pirates,” Jareth mumbled.

Mycroft turned around. “What did you say?”

Jareth tried to raise his head but was too weak. He looked up at Mycroft with life in his eyes. “Pixie dust and pirates.”

&%&%&%

“This is by far the stupidest thing I have ever done,” Mycroft grumbled as he half-led, half-carried Jareth into his home.

They made it mostly intact to one of the many guest rooms. Jareth collapsed on the bed and Mycroft sat wearily in a chair.

“You are a lucky goblin,” Mycroft said, “Be glad I have enough power to have gotten you out of there.”

Jareth was silent.

“Are you dead?”

“No,” Jareth said silently.

Mycroft leaned forward in his seat. “Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Thirsty?”

“No.”

“Tired?”

“No.”

“What do you want then?

“My name,” Jareth said.

“You don’t remember?”

Jareth pointed to his head. “It’s all wrong. Nothing works anymore.”

Mycroft sighed and leaned back in his chair. “According to your files, your name is Jareth, no last name given. What do you remember?”

Jareth turned and faced the wall. “Pixie dust. Pirates. Things. Sounds. Images. Nothing is right.”

&%&%&%

For the next three days, Jareth said nothing. He ate nothing. He drank only hot water with honey. Mycroft was having difficulties contacting Jareth’s family without alerting the High Court.

“I have a sister. She would sing to me when I was young,” Jareth said on the fourth day while Mycroft made breakfast.

“Good. You remember something. What else do you remember?” Mycroft said.

“I don’t like burned porridge, so keep an eye on the pot. I want some,” Jareth said.

&%&%&%

Slowly, Jareth began remembering more and more of his life over the next few days. He knew he had a nephew and niece. The High King hated him. The Goblin Kingdom used to be Jareth’s. He even began to remember Sarah.

“Pale green eyes,” Jareth said to Mycroft, “Defiant. Observant. Innocent. She has the most amazing eyes I have ever seen.”

“What else do you remember?” Mycroft asked warily as he poured Jareth a glass of whiskey. He was uncertain as to how Jareth would feel towards the woman he lost his kingdom over.

Jareth shrugged. “It is all… mixed up still in my head. She looked for wonders like a child does but with an adult’s understanding. I am having problems remember her voice… but I know it is wonderful. I want to remember how we met. Do you think she is looking for me? The girl I loved?”

“I know your family worries about you,” Mycroft said, trying to casually steer the conversation away from Sarah Williams.

“I can’t wait to see them all,” Jareth said with a smile, “I think I’ll go look at the stars tonight.”

&%&%&%

Mycroft was awoken that night by the sound of things breaking. He grabbed an umbrella on his way down to the main floor. Jareth sat in the middle of the now trashed sun room.

“What happened?” Mycroft asked.

“She rejected me,” Jareth said with unearthly calm.

“Who did?”

“ _The girl_. She rejected me. I offered her EVERYTHING and she rejected me. You knew didn’t you?”

“I was aware that you worked very hard to have her accept you and that it did not work out.”

“I will show her the cruelty she has shown me. Defiant brat.”

Mycroft said calmly, “But what is her name?”

Jareth stilled his breathing for a moment before saying, “Give me time. Soon, I will show her what happens to those who defy me.”

&%&%&%

After Jareth’s outburst, the goblin had little improvement in his memory over the next two weeks. He was trying to figure out ways to destroy the girl, but his mind was having difficulty making coherent thoughts.

One evening, Jareth was eating a small slice of peach pie when his hands started shaking.

“What’s the matter?” Mycroft asked.

“That’s why, isn’t it? Why she rejected me? I gave her… Fae fruit. I drugged her. I tried to force her to stay with me. That’s why… that’s why she rejected me. I hurt her. I tried to take away her free will. Why? I would never truly have her that way.”

“I don’t know, Jareth. You never stated why you did it in your trial,” Mycroft said.

Jareth shoved the food away and rested his head on the table. “I can never be forgiven by her. I should never be forgiven by her.”

&%&%&%

Mycroft held a bed sheet that had been made into a noose in his hands. After Jareth’s revelation the week before, his mind had begun deteriorating again. He was having difficulties remember Mycroft’s name along with other lapses.

“Why did you make this?” Mycroft asked.

“I can’t even remember my family’s names,” Jareth said, “I abandoned them for my own wants. I sacrificed the safety of my kingdom for my unhealthy desires. Why shouldn’t I die?”

“Because your family fought for you to live. In less than eleven years’ time, you will be considered redeemed for your sins as a king. The girl has never wanted vengeance against you. There is music to be played. Books to be read. Desserts to eat.”

Jareth laughed at the last one.

“No person can make another person live. It is our own responsibility to live and no one else’s. There was some reason why you were fighting to live in the labs. There has to still be a reason.”

Jareth spoke softly. “I had other siblings besides my sister. They died. It’s just the two of us now. I didn’t want her to be alone.”

“You remember your sister?”

“Not much, but enough to know what she loves me.” Jareth ruffled his hair. “What do you live for, Mycroft?”

Mr. Holmes was quiet for several moments. “I have certain skills that I have honed over the years. Those skills protect others who can do greater things. I may not leave anything like a sonnet, a building, or a song, but I can make it so others can.”

Jareth nodded. “That is certainly a reason to live.” 

&%&%&%

Three days later, Mycroft heard the piano playing in the music room. He found that odd since Jareth was having problems remembering scales, let alone entire songs. When he entered the room, Mycroft found the Goblin King and Jareth sitting together at the piano bench while several goblins were sitting around them.

When the song finish, Jareth said, “Mycroft Holmes, this is my niece, the Goblin King, Christiana Rossetti.”

Christiana turned and smiled at Mycroft. “My uncle finally remembered the right words to call upon me.”

&%&%&%

Jareth had rapid improvements and was frequently visited by his niece and nephew over the next month. It was two months after Jareth was released from the labs when an unexpected visitor came to Mycroft’s home. Sherlock was sitting in the sun room, facing towards the door. 

“What are you doing here?” Mycroft said.

“Holiday,” Sherlock said, “And when I say holiday, I mean that I was tired of listening to lecturers who knew less than I did then when, say, I was wished away to the goblins.”

Jareth leaned forward in his chair and showed himself. “Yes, isn’t it nice for your brother to visit? We were just discussing piracy.”

_It is my worst nightmare come true. The two of them are going to make my life Hell if they work together. I have to get Jareth a flat some place where Sherlock cannot find him. Maybe in London. Surely in a place so large they would not run into each other there._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the amount of chapters I am posting. I was sick for several days and had massive writer’s block on this chapter.


	3. Chapter III: London

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Almighty Disclaimer   
> Oh Moffat, Gatiss, and Thompson  
> Oh Henson and Doyle,   
> And Pika-la Cynique the generous,  
> To you belongs all the characters   
> And none so for me!
> 
> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame.

Jareth opened the door of his London flat and found Sherlock standing there with a bruise forming on his left cheek. “I needed a place to go and I didn’t want to go back home.”

“Who…”

“Someone at school. It’s not important,” Sherlock said, “I dropped out.”

Jareth motioned for Sherlock to enter. “Would you like some brandy?”

“Something stronger, if you wouldn’t mind. Seven percent stronger.”

&%&%&%

An hour later, Jareth was down to the bottom of his bottle of brandy. “What are you going to do, Sherlock? Piracy?”

“What do you do?” Sherlock asked from where he was sprawled on the sofa.

“Whatever your brother asks me.”

“Dull.”

“Indeed.” Jareth took another sip of his drink. “The only interesting ones are if someone has been killed. It is always interesting to see how people try to cover up their deeds in such cases.”

Sherlock became quiet.

“What’s the matter?” Jareth asked.

“We could do it.”

“Do what? Kill people? It isn’t as enjoyable as it looks.”

“No. Solve murders. I wanted to do that, but I can’t stand how the police force works. All those… rules.”

“How do we go about it?”

“We get clients. Maybe get the police on our side so we can get fame, but not their money. That would make us look like fortune seekers and hurt us financially in the long run. We can solve all those puzzles without all the paper work and rules.”

“Sherlock?”

“Yes?”

“I’ll consider it once we’re both sober. This is among the crazier things I have heard.”

&%&%&%

“We are getting nowhere with this venture,” Jareth said as he and his flatmate walked down a central London street

“Agreed,” Sherlock said.

“You may have a trust fund, Mr. Holmes, but I have another year before my assets can be freed up for my personal use,” Jareth said.

“Where are we? Where are you taking us?” Sherlock asked.

“I have no idea. It just feels right,” Jareth said, “We were just out of the Baker Street Station. We must be near there.”

“Well, I am feeling peckish. How about that little cafe?” Sherlock said as he pointed to Speedy’s.

Jareth shrugged. “Not hungry. You go in. I’ll wait out here.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes before going into the shop. Jareth sat down at one of the cafe tables near an elderly woman reading a newspaper. When Sherlock came back outside, he found Jareth consoling the woman with the newspaper as she was sobbing quite loudly.

Jareth looked at Sherlock pleadingly. 

“What’s wrong?” Sherlock asked.

“I have found us a new client. Her name is Mrs. Hudson and her ex-husband is a serial murderer.”

&%&%&%

“This is hell,” Sherlock said as he stepped out into the Florida heat.

“There is a special evil to Florida, I will admit,” Jareth said.

Sherlock waved down a taxi. “We should get to the hotel and…”

“Sherlock, I need to ask a favor.”

“What?”

Jareth was obviously agitated. “I… the girl… she’s American. I may… do something rash and try to see her. Will you soundly beat me if I try to do that?”

“I would do that just for fun,” Sherlock said with a smirk, “Besides, I see little goblin eyes in the palm trees.”

&%&%&%

“Mr. Hudson will be executed, I promise you,” Jareth said to Mrs. Hudson in her kitchen when the two consulting detectives returned from Florida.

“Thank you, so much. I don’t know how I could repay you for such kindness,” Mrs. Hudson said. She tried to take out her check book but Jareth stopped her.

“It was truly our pleasure,” Sherlock said.

“Do you need anything else Mrs. Hudson?” Jareth asked.

“Well… it’s silly,” Mrs. Hudson said.

“I have a high tolerance for silly,” Jareth said.

Mrs. Hudson pointed to the hallway. “One of the lights is out and I have to get out a ladder to fix it. Last time I did that, I almost broke my poor hip. Could you change it out for me? I have the bulb.”

“It will be no trouble Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock said.

After a few minutes, the light bulb had been changed as well as a few of the higher cobwebs cleared away. “Will that suit you, Mrs. Hudson?” Jareth asked.

“Oh, dearie, that’s lovely. I used to have my tenants up stairs take care of it before they moved. Oh! I just had the most wonderful idea! Do you boys need a flat?”

&%&%&%

A few months later, it was almost eight at night and there had been a jumper. Near the police line of the crime scene, Lestrade said to a fellow officer, “It’s probably a suicide.”

“It was murder,” Jareth said.

Lestrade looked over to the two men in long coats standing by the police line. “What makes you think that?”

“The angle for a fall from that height is off, judging by where the line has been set up. The victim was pushed,” Jareth said.

“Besides, aren’t all these sorts of things supposed to be suspicious until proved otherwise? This scene was set-up about a half hour ago, judging from when you finished your curry chicken dinner with your wife,” Sherlock said.

“How the bloody hell did you know that?” Lestrade said.

&%&%&%

Many cases later, Sherlock and Jareth were walking up to a crime scene when Sherlock was introduced to Sally Donovan.

“Finally, something has come up,” Jareth said.

“I was about ready to start shooting the wall,” Sherlock said.

A female police officer walked up to Jareth and punched him in the eye.

&%&%&%

Sherlock laughed the entire way back to 221b. “I have never seen someone go down that fast.”

“It was unexpected.”

“I have never seen someone go down that fast.”

“She has a strong right hook.”

“Did you even see her?”

“Do you think I would be nursing a black eye if I did?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The Florida quips are from having over half my Mother’s family live in Orlando so I ended up going there almost once a year until I was in college. I am allergic to everything there at all times of the year so Florida is pretty much the last place in the world I should live as I, unlike Sherlock, do not find breathing boring. No offense to anyone who does like Florida. It does have some very pretty beaches.


	4. Chapter IV: Lifeline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Almighty Disclaimer   
> Oh Moffat, Gatiss, and Thompson  
> Oh Henson and Doyle,   
> And Pika-la Cynique the generous,  
> To you belongs all the characters   
> And none so for me!
> 
> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame.

Mycroft was being the moderator between two warring countries when he received a phone call. With one glance, Mycroft said, “Excuse me for a moment.”

Once out of the room, Mycroft answered the call. “What is wrong Mrs. Hudson?”

“Lestrade is taking care of it, but I had to call you,” Mrs. Hudson said.

“What happened to Sherlock?” Mycroft said.

“He overdosed. He is in the hospital right now and they are trying to clean his system. They aren’t sure… if… if he’ll make it,” Mrs. Hudson said.

“Was this on purpose?” Mycroft asked.

“No. No. Jareth said…”

“He was involved?”

“I don’t know. I think so. They didn’t do it here. I really thought they had stayed clean this time.”

“Mrs. Hudson, go to the hospital. A package will be there that you need to give to the doctors,” Mycroft said.

“What is it?” Mrs. Hudson said.

“A restraining order against Jareth King so that he cannot be within 100 yards of Sherlock Holmes.”

&%&%&%

Sherlock woke up in a hospital bed feeling like he had been run over by Death’s carriage. When he tried to raise his arms, he found them to be tied down to the bed.

“Welcome back to the living,” Sally Donovan said.

Sherlock glared at her. For the next few hours, he worked on getting out of the hospital room but the combination of almost dying, detoxing, and the restraints actually working made it impossible for him to escape. Then his mind began to… wander… out loud.

“He lost it because of a girl,” Sherlock said. 

“Who did?” Sally asked.

“Jareth. He lost his kingdom because of a girl,” Sherlock said.

“Do you know who the girl is?” Sally asked.

“My brother knows,” Sherlock mumbled before becoming incoherent again.

&%&%&%

Mycroft Holmes found the Goblin King sitting in his office at the Diogenes Club, her feet resting on his desk. “How is your brother?”

“Stable,” Mycroft said. He hung up his coat and put away his umbrella.

“How is my uncle taking this?” Christiana said.

“I neither know nor care,” Mycroft said.

Christiana visibly paled. “Where is he?”

“I refer to my previous statement,” Mycroft said, “If you would be so kind as to vacate my seat.” 

“Jareth was involved, wasn’t he?” Christiana said.

“Apparently,” Mycroft said.

“You have to find him. Jareth has to be upset. Has he come to the hospital?”

Mycroft stood by the Goblin King. “Yes, and he has been turned away.”

“We have to find him,” Christiana said as she stood.

“There is no ‘we’, your majesty. Jareth King has broken our agreement and he is no longer my concern,” Mycroft said.

“Sherlock is a grown up and should not have been using drugs in the first place!”

“By your uncle’s encouragement.”

“Sherlock was using drugs long before Jareth’s banishment!”

“Your uncle should have stopped him.”

“I agree! Jareth is an idiot and needs to answer for his irresponsibility! He has already shown he wants to speak with Sherlock! He can’t do that if he’s dead! What if he wants to hurt himself? My mother has always worried about my kinsman becoming suicidal. Can you live with that on your conscience?”

Mycroft closed his eyes as the memory of the first month after the labs came back. “Goblin King… if I wished for Jareth to be dead, we would not be having this conversation. If you can find him and make him agree to rehab, I will consider speaking to him and allowing him to see Sherlock again.”

Christiana huffed. “Agreed. Do you have any idea where he is?”

“None what so ever and I will not lend you my resources. I would suggest you start investigating any possibility on your own.”

&%&%&%

A few days later, Mycroft found himself waiting for Jareth in the hallway where Sherlock’s room was. The blond man approached Mycroft looking disheveled, exhausted, and slightly hung-over. 

“I’ll do whatever you ask. Just let me make it up to Sherlock,” Jareth said.

“Jareth King, let me remind you that you do not have a heart and you should stop pretending that you do. I will only say this once and then we are to never speak on this again. Both you and my brother are going to remain clean until the day you both die. You will continue taking cases from me.”

“I have the right to…”

“You have no right to refuse a case for as long as Sherlock lives with you.”

Jareth nodded.

“If you break this agreement, I will send you back to where I found you and make sure you live a very long time.”

“Mycroft, you wouldn’t…”

“You have manipulated with my brother’s life. I have no problem doing the same to yours.”

Mycroft handed a box to Jareth. “This is a reminder of what happens when my brother’s life is threatened.”

Jareth opened the box and frowned. “It’s a skull.”

“It was taken from someone who died about, oh, three days ago.”

Jareth paled. “You don’t mean to say that this is David Yorick.” 

“I have no idea why you would think that this is Sherlock’s drug dealer’s skull.”

&%&%&%

“Who was the girl?” Sherlock asked when he and Jareth returned to 221b.

“What girl?” Jareth asked back.

“The girl you lost your kingdom for,” Sherlock said.

“I lost my kingdom because of my own pride. She had nothing to do with it,” Jareth said.

Sherlock took a sip of tea. “Well?”

Jareth covered his mouth for a moment before speaking. He looked out the window. “She was like any other girl. She wanted to be loved, beautiful, and smart. To be her own person and just like everyone else. Yet… something about her… she… she reminded me of what I once was. A dreamer searching for wonders. The believer in far-flung hopes. The champion who righted wrongs.

“She had been hurt by a loss of stability in her life. It was just enough of a hurt that I wanted to save her. I felt like I could be everything to her that she wanted and needed. It would be just the two of us. She would be so grateful to me that she would fear me, love me, and do as I say without a single protest. 

“Of course, she was defiant to me. That spirit that I adored fought me back harder and better than I ever imagined so I cheated. That’s why I lost my kingdom. I refused to believe that what I wanted did not want me back so I tried to force her to me.”

Jareth looked over at Sherlock. “Love cannot be forced or else it is not love. Pursue it, but do not kill it in an attempt to keep it.”

With a ruffle of his blond hair, Jareth laughed. “Listen to me. Sentimental rumblings of an old man.”

“You still haven’t told me who the girl is,” Sherlock said.

Jareth gave a genuine smile. “Sarah. She is my Champion of the Labyrinth.”

&%&%&%

It was a three months before Lestrade permitted Jareth and Sherlock back on a case. It was several more before they could walk around a crime scene with little interference. On one of these cases, the two consulting detectives were waiting for test results at Bart’s labs when Sherlock said, “I don’t think I want to do this for forever.”

“If you wanted to do this for forever, there would be something wrong with you,” Jareth said.

Sherlock laughed without humor. “There is something wrong with me. Why else would I do this?”

Jareth made eye contact with Sherlock. “As someone who has worked with the dredges of humanity for several centuries, trust me when I tell you that there is nothing wrong with you. You look at the world from a different perspective, but that does not mean you are wrong.”

Sherlock nodded. “Is there something wrong with you?”

“Oh, definitely. But you are not me. We are very similar, but with very different goals.”

“And what are those goals?”

“You want to live. I want to stay alive.”

“Aren’t those the same things?”

“Not at all.”

&%&%&%

Sometime later, Sherlock said to Jareth in 221b while waiting for a case, “You won’t always be here, will you?”

“No. One day, I will no longer be in your life, Sherlock,” Jareth said.

“Can I… is it possible to always have someone who will always be there for you? That you can be better because of that person and they are better because of you?”

“Always. They may not always be right by your side. People will die or move to all kinds of places, but there are those that, should you ever need them, if you call, they will be there.”

Sherlock was silent for a few minutes. “Jareth, I think I know what my wish is.”

&%&%&%

A few days later, a short man came to 221b. “Dr. John Watson. How do you do? My sister, Harry, has gone missing and the police say they can’t do anything about it. I’m told you two might be able to help me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I am not an expert in drug addiction and am in no way qualified to help in such an area except to say, “Don’t do drugs. Stay in school.”
> 
> For some reason, the _Pan’s Labyrinth_ soundtrack was helpful in writing this chapter. (If you haven’t seen the movie, I highly recommend it if you can handle a bit of gore.)


	5. Chapter V: Loyalty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Almighty Disclaimer   
> Oh Moffat, Gatiss, and Thompson  
> Oh Henson and Doyle,   
> And Pika-la Cynique the generous,  
> To you belongs all the characters   
> And none so for me!
> 
> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame.

Jareth had been depressed ever since Sherlock had “retired” and left with Dr. Watson to raise bees. (Mycroft still could not believe how willfully blind Jareth was. Of course Sherlock was still taking cases. He just was fitting them around his beekeeping.) Jareth had remained focused on the small hope of regaining his kingdom. One day, however, Anthea sent Mycroft an e-mail when there was a change. “Sir, I think you should see this.” 

Mycroft was in the Diogenes Club and watched the footage from 221 Baker Street on his phone. It showed a young brunette entering 221 and then leaving with Jareth. The consulting detective opened the taxi door for the woman and he seemed to be smiling.

Mycroft called his assistant. “Who is the woman? Obviously not a client.”

“We have actually had her watched occasionally. Sarah Williams. Apparently she has connections with the Labyrinth,” Anthea said, “Do you want me to send you the information we have on her?”

“A refresher would be nice as well as what she has been up to these past few years. I know who she is, however. I think we should arrange a meeting with her.”

Mycroft ended the call. _What good can come of these two being together?_

&%&%&%

As he waited for her to arrive, Mycroft Holmes reviewed what was known about Sarah Williams. 

_Certified nurse with experience in combat but trained to be an ER nurse at New York University. Worked for a year at the hospital in her hometown before moving back to New York City. Worked at New York-Presbyterian University Hospital of Columbia and Cornell for two years._

_“Enlisted” in the U.S. Army as a medic. Actually a Black Ops team that she was forced into. This was after spending three months in a U.S. laboratory because her magic was discovered during an emergency operation on a child shot protecting his younger sister. 19 recorded kills in the field. All in defense of self or injured soldiers. Injured during an attack on her team. Only survivor from attack. A British medical officer saw Ms. Williams’ injuries and made the call that she should be treated at a magic center. She was sent to St. Bart’s under the condition that if she arrived as a corpse, the U.S. government would be paid appropriately. She has unexpectedly recovered quite well._

_Magic is healing based, but no known lineage to magical creatures. Assumed to be natural human abilities enhanced by time in the Labyrinth._

_Defeated the Labyrinth when 15 to save half-brother. This eventually led to the forced exile of the Goblin King at the time. No contact with Jareth King since._

_Parents are divorced. Mother is a relatively famous theater actress who had a public affair with an actor that led to said divorce. (Estranged from daughter.) Father is a business consultant. (Good relations. Black Ops and magic unknown to him.) Stepmother owns a boutique. (Good relations. Black Ops and magic unknown to her.) One younger half-brother. (Good relations. Black Ops unknown to him.) Two younger twin half-sisters. (Good relations. Black Ops unknown to them.)_

Mycroft leaned on his umbrella as the car drove up. A woman in her late twenties relied heavily on her cane but ignored the chair that Mycroft had had placed for her. He was pleased to see that there was no fear in the Champion and she was analyzing the situation quickly.

“Have a seat, Ms. Williams,” Mycroft said, using his umbrella to point to the chair.

“You know, I have a phone,” Sarah said, holding out her cell phone. “I mean, it was very clever, but you could just call me on my cell.”

“When one is avoiding the attention of a Fae such as Jareth, one learns to be discreet, hence this place. Your leg must be hurting you. Sit down,” Mycroft said.

“I don't want to sit down,” Sarah said. She kept as firm of a stance as she could with her limp.

“You don't seem very afraid,” Mycroft said.

“You don't seem very frightening,” Sarah said.

 _Good._ “Yes. The bravery of a Labyrinth champion. Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity, don't you think? Why are you involved with Jareth’s current dealings?”

“He’s kind of just pulled me along for the ride.”

 _So like Jareth._ “Since yesterday you've moved in with him and now you're solving crimes together. Might we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?”

“Who are you?” Sarah asked.

“An interested party,” Mycroft said.

“Interested in Jareth? Why? I'm guessing you're not friends.”

“You've met him. How many friends do you imagine he has? I am the closest thing to a friend that Jareth is capable of having.” Men of power never have friends.

“And what's that?”

“An enemy.” 

“An enemy?”

“In his mind, certainly. If you were to ask him, he'd probably say his arch-enemy. He does love to be dramatic.”

“Well, thank God you’re above all that Mr. Umbrella.”

Mycroft resisted rolling his eyes. _Ah. Sarcasm. She will fit right in._ “Do you plan to continue your association with the former Goblin King?”

“I could be wrong, Mr. Umbrella, but I think that's none of your business.”

Something unnerved him about Sarah naming him. “It could be. Stop calling me Mr. Umbrella.”

“Unless you are some sort of King, which I doubt, it really couldn’t be. I won’t stop calling you Mr. Umbrella until you give me a real name.”

 _Fair enough._ Mycroft pulled out a journal and laid out one of his most important tests for finding loyalty in a person. “If you do move into, 221B Baker Street, I'd be happy to pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis to ease your way.” He closed the notebook and put it back into his jacket pocket. 

“Why?”

“Because you're not a wealthy woman.”

“In exchange for what?”

“Information. Nothing indiscreet. Nothing you'd feel... uncomfortable with. Just tell me what he's up to.”

“Why?”

“He has a tendency to cause trouble and I wish to stop anything before it reaches goblin proportions. I make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.”

“That is so nice of you.” Sarah said dryly.

“But I would prefer for various reasons that my concern go unmentioned, we have what you might call a... difficult relationship.” _Understatement._

“No,” Sarah said with no hesitation.

“But I haven't mentioned a figure.”

“Don't bother,” Sarah hissed.

“You're very loyal to someone who stole your baby brother.”

“I'm just not interested.”

Mycroft pulled out the notebook again. “‘Trust issues’ it says here.”

Sarah tried to hide her surprise and remain calm. “What’s that? How did you get your hands on that?”

“Could it be that you've decided to trust Jareth of all people?”

“Who says I trust him?”

“You don't seem the forgiving type so if you are willing to be in the same room as the man who stole your brother...”

“You don’t know me and I don’t plan on you ever knowing me. Are we done?” Sarah said sharply.

“You tell me. I imagine people have already warned you to stay away from him, but I doubt that will happen.”   
“Why do you think that, Mr. Umbrella?”

 _Because you said the Words._ “‘Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered’ and all of the lovely rhetoric that goes with that. None who reach the center of the Labyrinth ever get out again. Maybe physically, but never in their hearts. The world is never the same. Some go mad from it, but others, such as yourself, search for it.”

“Jareth is no longer a part of the Labyrinth. I have friends and…”

“Oh, but he always will be, just as you are. Unlike your friends, he will always be in-between worlds, just as you are. The two of you will make quite the pair.” _His Champion. That’s what he called you once._

“We are not a pair. Have a nice day, Mr. Umbrella.” Sarah began walking away.

“Anthea will return you to your new flat.”

“I haven’t taken the flat yet. How many times do I have to tell people that?”

_Jareth deserves everything she will give him._

&%&%&%

What Mycroft did not expect was how Sarah would bring about more chaos then even Jareth could bring about or that he would grow fond of the nickname she gave him.

&%&%&%

Sherlock was putting down in his journal his observations on his beehives when he heard John say, “You do not go and by a girl a diamond necklace who just moved into your flat yesterday!”

Looking up, Sherlock saw that John was talking on the phone. “No, Jareth. A car would not be appropriate either. Are the two of you even dating?” John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Has she said she is interested? WELL THEN YOU BLOODY LEAVE HER ALONE! If a girl isn’t interested, you back off! Don’t you have a niece? How would you feel if someone treated her like you want to treat this Sarah person?”

Sherlock snatched the phone from John. “Is this _the_ Sarah?”

“Sherlock, what are you… never mind. Yes. This is THE Sarah.”

“What do you mean she is in our flat?”

“It is a long story, but she doesn’t hate me! Isn’t it wonderful?”

John took the phone back from Sherlock. “Listen, Jareth, do not scare this girl off. She obviously just wants a place to stay and possibly a friend. Don’t muck this up by being obsessive, all right? Good.”

&%&%&%

It did not take much convincing to get John to join Sherlock on his trek to London to help Jareth with a particularly interesting mad bomber case. As they walked the familiar halls of St. Bart’s, a woman bumped into Sherlock.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you hurt?” the woman asked.

Sherlock turned around and he smiled. He had never seen a picture but he was almost certain he knew who it was. The dark brown hair, the green eyes, the powerful stance, and the watchful eyes all pointed to one answer. He just had to test his theory.

He gave his best “I’m a nice person and not someone who is obsessed with crime” smile. “It’s quite all right. Could I borrow your phone for a moment? My reception doesn’t work here.”

The woman pulled out her phone and gave it to him. Sherlock quickly looked through her phone and found Jareth’s number. He sent off a text that said, “Just met Sarah.”

“Thank you, Ms. Williams,” Sherlock said as he and John walked towards the lab.

“No problem… wait! How do you know my name?”

&%&%&%

The unresolved sexual tension between Jareth and Sarah was obvious and distracting. Sherlock could not understand why they simply did not consummate the relationship and move on with their lives.

“It doesn’t quite work like that, Sherlock,” John said as they sat in the Williams’ hotel room as they waited for news from the Labyrinth.

“Why not? They like each other. They work well together. Jareth is a man of reason. Sarah is sensible. Why not simply, in layman’s terms, ‘seal the deal’?” Sherlock said.

“They both have a lot of issues to work through. Emotional issues are not clear cut, you know,” John said.

Sherlock nodded. 

“Also, you don’t start off shagging. You snog first,” John said.

&%&%&%

Sherlock kept John’s words in mind whenever the four of them were together. Sherlock encouraged snogging. It seemed to fluster the residents of 221b, but it was obvious to anyone that the two just needed encouragement. They were content with each other and did their best work with the other supporting them.

Sherlock still could not figure out how he did not see the change in relationship after Baskerville until Jareth and Sarah started snogging at the dining room table.

“I told you that he wouldn’t notice,” Sarah said when she pulled away from Jareth.

“How could I not detect this?” Sherlock asked, at a loss for what he just saw.

“It is not something you are familiar with on a personal level,” Sarah said, “You wanted your friend to be happy, thus why you kept pushing us to snog.”

Sherlock returned to his nonchalant sprawl. “Hardly. I thought it would release tension from him and allow him to work better.”

“Same. Difference,” Sarah said, “Jareth does better when he has a puzzle. I am glad you recognize that need in Jareth. It took me awhile to realize that. You’re actually a good friend, Sherlock.”

Sherlock laughed. “Sociopaths don’t have friends.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “None of you are sociopaths. Two-year-olds? Definitely. Sociopaths? No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just bits and pieces over the course of the series that might be fun from the Holmes boys’ points of view.


	6. Chapter VI: Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame.

Mycroft was the first person to know what happened with Jareth and Sarah after they found Moriarty’s video. He was not surprised by the development or the timing. Ordeals seemed to draw people together. Jareth and Sarah had gone through both an extensively draining physical and mental case in Baskerville (blast Sherlock for that) and then the emotionally destructive invasion of Moriarty. It made perfect sense.

Of course, Jareth made a game of people finding out about it the next day. Mycroft found it infinitely amusing his brother could not make such a simple deduction.

Moriarty was a nuisance but he was not causing a large enough ruckus to Mycroft’s liking. James Doyle should have been strutting about in his new freedom (as much a semi-secretive criminal mastermind could) but there was not such an event… yet.

Jareth was not having much luck either. Sarah was a minor distraction, but a necessary one. Mycroft had seen enough of Jareth’s obsessions to know how easily he was led astray. Sarah’s newly outed love provided an outlet for such energies. Much as the consulting detective would deny it, Jareth had a deep need for acceptance. Sarah provided it with no conditions save for general compassion towards her and a select few who Jareth already cared for.

That and she stealthily provided Jareth with clients to keep him busy.

_Jareth always did say she was clever._

&%&%&%

“Moriarty did WHAT?” Sherlock said over Skype.

“Yeah. I think he is now nominated for best villain award,” Sarah said.

Sherlock’s mind immediately began to analyze the situation. “I need details and facts and I am coming…” 

“You are not coming,” Jareth said as he sat next to Sarah, “Moriarty is caught and now we must go through both human and Fae courts.”

“I worked the first case. I could be a valuable witness,” Sherlock said.

“The human courts are not allowing Sarah to testify and the High Court are very reluctantly allowing her to come. They will not take you,” Jareth said.

“I could assist…”

“Sherlock…”

“Jareth…”

“Boys…”

The two detectives sighed. “Yes?”

“Sherlock, you and Jareth can chat about the case and see if anything pops out to you. You will stay home though. If we need you, we will call,” Sarah said.

Jareth grumbled but Sarah elbowed him.

“Fine. I will speak with Sherlock,” Jareth said.

&%&%&%

Unsurprisingly, Moriarty was found “not guilty”. Mycroft was in charge of sending the Gremlin King to the High Court.

“Don’t you have better things to do with your time than escort me around for these farces?” Moriarty said.

“We all have our jobs and some parts of them are not always logical,” Mycroft said.

Moriarty grinned. “You know, I have enjoyed our little chats these past few months, darling.”

Mycroft was silent.

“Are you ever going to tell him?” Moriarty said, “You probably won’t. Don’t want his pet to find out. She might bite your ankles and then you’ll have to put her down.”

“Ms. Williams is not of your concern,” Mycroft said.

Moriarty shrugged. “As long as Jareth stays in my way, she is my concern.”

&%&%&%

Sherlock knew something was wrong with Jareth and it had something to do with Moriarty. The former Goblin King was far too cheerful and more distracted than usual. Jareth was still working the Moriarty case but seemed relaxed in all other aspects of his life. He even came down for a visit.

“Is there anything I can do to help? I have contacts in London still,” Sherlock said as he showed Jareth around the orchard where Sherlock kept the bees.

“Not at the moment, thank you,” Jareth said.

Sherlock swallowed. “What are you not telling me?”

“It does not matter in the grand scheme of things,” Jareth said.

“Does it matter to Sarah?” Sherlock asked.

Jareth was silent.

“Jareth, what the bloody hell is going on?”

Jareth turned and faced Sherlock, placing a hand on his shoulder. He gave a look that reminded Sherlock of being much younger and speaking with the Goblin King about how much he hated people’s stupidity.

“No matter what happens, there is nothing you could have done, Sherlock. You are a good friend. I must ask a favor of you that you can never tell Sarah. Can you promise me that? You cannot interfere with this. John may be hurt if you do.”

Sherlock nodded and felt something tighten in his chest.

“If something were to happen to me, you must go to Sarah immediately. She will need to know that she will not be abandoned. She can’t… she needs to know that people care for her. Just be there.”

Sherlock tried to pull back as he realized what Jareth meant but the former Goblin King kept his grip firm.

“Promise me, Sherlock,” Jareth said.

“Why do you think Moriarty is going to kill you? Why can’t Sarah know? Why tell me?”

“You would figure it out far too quickly and I still have a hope… a hope it won’t happen but no one must know and you would spoil my chances at finding a way out trying to help, because you are a good friend. As my friend, please, Sherlock, promise me,” Jareth said.

“Yes, I promise,” Sherlock said.

Jareth smiled. “Good. Now, let’s talk of something else. Do you know what I heard my niece call you and your brother the other day?”

“What?”

“The Lords of London. She says that no one takes care of the city as well as the two of you.”

“And you aren’t a part of that?” Sherlock asked.

“No. Of course not. I’m King of London. You all listen to me.” Jareth smile turned into a smirk.

&%&%&%

It was happening soon. Moriarty was beginning to stir again. Mycroft gave his warning to Sarah the best that he could. He left out clues for what was to come. He gave her the best sort of weapon: information.

“I doubt Moriarty would be this restrained,” Sarah said when she was given the information.

“Restrained?” Mycroft asked, secretly surprised by Sarah’s reaction.

“He is much more theatrical. He probably would set 221b on fire and set off a firework display,” Sarah said.

“If not Moriarty, then who?” Mycroft asked.

“Why don’t you talk to Jareth if you’re so concerned about him?” Sarah said.

Mycroft looked away and toyed with the glass on the table beside him. He could not tell her the real reason, only half of it.

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t tell me…”

“Too much history between us, Sarah. Old scores; resentments.”

“Oh, grow up. If you really were upset about wishing Sherlock away, you could have left Jareth in the labs,” Sarah said. She stood up and turned to leave the room.

_Well, at least she can see some things for what they are._

“We both know what’s coming, Sarah,” Mycroft said.

Sarah stopped walking away.

“Moriarty is obsessed. He’s sworn to destroy his only rival,” Mycroft said.

Sarah’s voice shook with anger. “And you will... do nothing to help him?”

Somehow, she could already tell the betrayal that had been done, even if she did not know the exact circumstance. There was only so much Mycroft could do.

“Why should I when he has the great Sarah Williams to defend him?” Mycroft said.

Sarah slammed the door behind her.

She was just as dramatic, but not as loud, when she came to the Diogenes Club that night. Mycroft already knew about the children, the arrest, and the escape. He had been informed that Sarah had snuck into the club and was waiting for him.

It was quite a nod to Bond villains to be waiting in a chair in a darkened room. Jareth was starting to rub off on Sarah. 

“She has really done her homework, Ms. Riley. These are things that only someone close to Jareth could know,” Sarah said.

“And you think I had something to do with it,” Mycroft said as he shut the door.

“Oh, I know you did,” Sarah said, “Sherlock doesn’t even know that Jareth tried to kill himself when you let him out of the labs. He wanted to die because his mind had been scrambled by telepaths so badly he couldn’t even remember his family’s names. He didn’t tell me until after we were bound for, you know, eternity. You, however, were the only one who dealt with Jareth once he was out of the labs for about a month.”

Mycroft sat across from Sarah but was silent. His stomach churned as he recalled the labs and the suicide attempt.

Sarah continued speaking. “So how does it work, then, your relationship? Do you and Jimmy go out for coffee?” Sarah gripped the arms of the chair. “Jareth trusts you enough that he asks you to help me. He is probably the only person who can even begin to understand your brother. Why would you tell Jimmy this stuff? Even if you hate Jareth, how could you hurt Sherlock this way?”

Mycroft always planned things carefully, never letting anything be out of place when he could help it, particularly his words. Now, those years of control left him. “I never inten... I never dreamed...”

“Shut up. I’m not done talking,” Sarah said, “Was this why you talked to me earlier? You were trying to tell me ‘Watch his back, because I’ve made a mistake’?” She threw the papers at Mycroft. “How did you even meet Moriarty?”

Mycroft cleared his throat before speaking. “People like him: we know about them; we watch them. But James Moriarty... the most dangerous criminal mind the world has ever seen, and in his pocket the ultimate weapon: a keycode. A few lines of computer code that could unlock any door.”

“And you abducted him to try and find the keycode?”

_Brutally. He did not wake up for three days after the first attempt._

“Interrogated him for weeks.”

“And?”

_The bastard would not break._

“He wouldn’t play along. He just sat there, staring into the darkness. The only thing that made him open up…” Mycroft gave a humorless laugh. “I could get him to talk... just a little, but...”

“… you would tell him Jareth’s secrets,” Sarah said. 

_Yes. Everything._ Mycroft was grateful that she looked away, giving him time to recover.

“Who else?”

Mycroft finally made eye contact with Sarah. “What?”

“Who else would Moriarty talk to? There is information here that only one of Jareth’s family members could know.”

_I didn’t want you to know this._

“I don’t…”

“I’m sick of you lying to me, Mycroft. Was Christiana trying to protect the goblins? Did Dante try to get information so he could help Rumpelstiltskin overthrow Oberon? Did Rumpelstiltskin do it himself?”

_Of course, she would overlook the obvious. Why would a sister ever do something like this to her brother? Both Sarah and Joanna were willing to die for their brothers. Why should that ever change?_

Mycroft, for the first time in Sarah’s acquaintance with him, looked sorry.

“Just tell me.”

“I did,” Joanna said.

Mycroft was unsurprised that the Seelie Queen was there.

Joanna stepped out of the shadows.

“What?” Sarah said.

“Mr. Holmes, would you please leave us for a moment?” Joanna said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Mycroft said. He stood up and spoke to Sarah. “I am sorry. Tell him, would you?”

Sarah was shaking badly at that point. Mycroft poured her a drink before he left. This was not news one should take while sober.

He poured a drink for himself when news came of Jareth’s suicide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: It’s almost as bad as writing it the first time.


	7. Chapter VII: Legacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Almighty Disclaimer  
> Oh Moffat, Gatiss, and Thompson  
> Oh Henson and Doyle,  
> And Pika-la Cynique the generous,  
> To you belongs all the characters  
> And none so for me!
> 
> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame.

Sherlock heard John’s mobile go off in the next room. It was early in the day and John had not woken up to make tea yet. Sherlock had been up late researching information on sharp shooters that Jareth might find interesting.

As he was drifting back asleep, Sherlock felt John gently rub his back, not his normal shaking and shoving out of bed when John needed Sherlock up and about. “Sherlock, you need to wake up.”

“Don’t have appointments today,” Sherlock mumbled.

“Sherlock, I need you awake for this,” John said.

The former consulting detective sat up and ruffled his curly, black hair. “What’s wrong?”

John looked ill. “Lestrade just called me.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened. “Did something happen to Sarah? Mrs. Hudson?”

“No,” John said, “No, not them. It’s Jareth. I’m sorry Sherlock. He’s dead.”

_“No matter what happens, there is nothing you could have done, Sherlock,” Jareth said._

“What? No. You’re wrong. There’s been a mistake,” Sherlock said.

“Sherlock, he committed suicide by jumping off a roof. There were several witnesses, including Sarah.”

_Jareth said, “I must ask a favor of you that you can never tell Sarah. Can you promise me that?”_

“No. There had to be a mistake. He can’t die. He’s the Goblin King. The stupid, glittery, singing, mischievous Goblin King. He is going to marry Sarah. They are going to keep solving puzzles because Jareth needs them. There are so many puzzles left that have to be solved.”

_Sarah said, “Jareth does better when he has a puzzle. I am glad you recognize that need in Jareth. It took me awhile to realize that. You’re actually a good friend, Sherlock.”_

“Sherlock, I am sorry. He is dead. He is going to be examined by Molly Hooper.”

Sherlock covered his mouth and focused on breathing through his nose. “He’s really dead then.”

John nodded and put his hand on Sherlock’s shoulder.

_“If something were to happen to me, you must go to Sarah immediately. She will need to know that she will not be abandoned. She can’t… she needs to know that people care for her. Just be there,” Jareth said._

“We need to go. Sarah. Has something happened to Sarah? Is that why he did it?” Sherlock asked.

John shook his head. “We don’t know why. Sarah is at the hospital right now being treated for a concussion and shock. Lestrade is telling Mrs. Hudson right now.”

Sherlock pushed past John to get to his clothes. “We are going. Sarah needs us.”

&%&%&%

On the train, John began researching what happened. Sherlock had to take over after a few minutes as John looked ready to destroy whoever Kitty Riley was.

“How can they say he was a fake? That would be like saying YOU were a fake and you are the realest thing I know,” John said.

“Newspapers are very badly put together works of fiction,” Sherlock said, “Almost as bad as that fanfiction that Sarah sent me after I complained about her and Jareth snogging too much.”

“My god, do you think that’s why he did it? This article?” John asked.

“Why? One newspaper…”

“One of the most read newspapers. It’s all online now too.”

“It’s utter slander. Richard Brook is obviously Moriarty.”

“You do realize what this means?”

“Besides Jareth being dead?”

“Every single case Jareth was on will be called into question. All of the cases you had will be called into question. Hell, even Lestrade will be under scrutiny.”

Sherlock gaped. “That’s why he did it. Moriarty did this to destroy over a decade’s work for Jareth and for me and more than two decades for Lestrade and… no. There are going to be things like this in the Underground. Think of what it will do to the Goblin Kingdom. The Seelie Court.” Sherlock chuckled darkly. “I tip my hat to such a wonderfully, horrible plan. Damn Moriarty, wherever he is.”

“Where do you think he is then? Moriarty?” 

“Probably trying to find sanctuary. Do you really think Sarah is just going to take this sitting down?”

&%&%&%

Mycroft was waiting for them in a car outside of the train station. He could almost hear the unified groan of John and Sherlock. The two friends entered the car.

“What information do you have for us?” Sherlock asked.

Mycroft laid out the state of events as much as he knew save for his and Joanna’s involvement. John kept making fists with his hands before trying to relax. Sherlock was calm. Too calm for Sherlock.

“What are you not telling me?” Sherlock asked.

“Make your deductions,” Mycroft said.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and got on his phone.

“God, he jumped in front of her. How cruel is that?” John said.

“Maybe not. Maybe he wanted her to know for certain that he was dead. No false hopes for rising from the dead,” Mycroft said.

“Why would he do it though?” John asked.

“Only God knows,” Mycroft said.

Sherlock suddenly looked up. “Why haven’t you disproved this rubbish? I mean, some of this happened under your… watch.”

Mycroft was relieved when he saw the hospital come into view. “And this is where you get off.”

John looked at Sherlock. “What’s the matter?”

Mycroft felt whatever bit of himself that still had a heart break. Sherlock looked exactly like when he had been wished away. The same look of betrayal and horror and desperate longing for things to go back to the way they were, begging to know what he did wrong.

John pushed Sherlock out of the car and grabbed their things. The younger Holmes stood on the sidewalk, looking far smaller than he should. As the car left them, Mycroft could hear Sherlock shouting curses at him.

&%&%&%

Sherlock was right about Sarah not taking it sitting down. She was curled up in the fetal position on a hospital bed.

Everything in Sherlock screamed at how wrong it was. Words Jareth had spoken of Sarah over the years filled Sherlock. Memories of Sarah’s fights with Jareth, her admiration of the Goblin Kings, her laughter, and the power she held over all who met her, all fought against the sight Sherlock saw before him.

Sarah did not look at them. She made no acknowledgment of their presence. Her green eyes were dull.

Lestrade was in the room, texting someone on the force.

“Get out,” Sherlock said.

Lestrade looked up. “I am glad you were able to make it. She needs all the friends she can. Her family is…”

“I said, get out.” Sherlock grabbed Lestrade by the collar and pulled him to his feet. “You could have stopped this. You could have said no to the accusations.”

“Sherlock, I had to. If I tried to cover it up, I would be considered a conspirator…”

“I don’t care what you would have been considered! JARETH WAS YOUR FRIEND AND YOU LET HIM DIE!”

John yanked Sherlock off Lestrade. “Piss off, Sherlock. It’s not Greg’s fault.”

“HE COULD HAVE STOPPED IT!” Sherlock screamed at John.

“Could you have stopped Jareth? Really, could any of us stop Jareth? Think about who is in here, Sherlock. You know that Sarah asked him to live and Jareth said no to SARAH! She is the reason why he gave EVERYTHING UP and that didn’t stop him. JARETH IS A GOD DAMN SELFISH COWARD AND YOU ARE NOT GOING TO TAKE OUT YOUR ANGER ON LESTRADE BECAUSE OF WHAT JARETH DID!” John shoved Sherlock out the door. “Take a walk and don’t come back until you’ve calmed down!”

“Mrs. Hudson is in the cafeteria,” Lestrade said.

&%&%&%

Sherlock had been forcibly shoved away from the morgue by Molly. “Bloody hell, Sherlock! You are not going to see your friend’s liver being weighed!”

“Is he dead?” Sherlock asked.

Molly sniffled. “Do you really think that he would do that to Sarah? That he would willingly hurt her for his own sake?”

&%&%&%

His next stop was to see Mrs. Hudson. Donovan was with her. Mrs. Hudson was huddled in a reading chair in a cafe area. Sherlock glared at Donovan and Sally understood it was her cue to leave.

Mrs. Hudson looked up at Sherlock and for a moment she was happy to see one of her boys, but sorrow quickly returned. “If you’re here…”

Sherlock knelt next to Mrs. Hudson and let her hug him. “Yes, Mrs. Hudson. I’m sorry.”

&%&%&%

It was two in the morning when Sherlock came to stay in Sarah’s room. John had fallen asleep in his chair. The TV played old re-runs. Sarah’s eyes were still open. 

John had told Sherlock that people liked physical comfort when they were going through emotional pain. Sherlock did not really understand that need, but he tried his best. He stroked Sarah’s hand with his gloved ones.

For a moment, life sparked in Sarah’s eyes again but it quickly died out. “You’re not him,” Sarah said softly, “You’re a lot like him, but not. He’s a king in worm-eaten armor. You’re a snarky knight-in-shining-Armani. You’re both good men. Both good men.”

Sherlock placed a kiss on top of Sarah’s head. “He always loved you, Sarah.”

“I know,” Sarah said before closing her eyes, “He loved you too. You and Toby could have been kings if he still had power. He wanted the best things for you.”

Sherlock grimaced. “I know.”

&%&%&%

Life was a bit more hellish than usual for Mycroft Holmes. Moriarty’s network was causing chaos, the Fae realm was in civil war, and Mycroft’s baby brother was living in 221B Baker Street again. Of course, neither brother spoke to each other until the return of a certain former goblin king.

&%&%&%

Sarah always quoted a poem called “Childhood is the Kingdom Where Nobody Dies”. Sherlock never liked it. His Goblin King was dead, and who protected children better than Jareth?

Sherlock should have guessed it. He _had_ helped Jareth fake Irene Adler’s death. He should have known that something was wrong about the Fall. But Jareth was good. Jareth knew that grief was a veil against reality.

“Hello, Sherlock,” Jareth said, “I have a new puzzle for you to help me with if you are willing.”

Sherlock Holmes grinned. “Of course I will. I was getting a bit bored. I was wondering when something would come up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEHOLD! SERIES THREE HAS ARRIVED!


End file.
